


Venenosa Culpa

by Bebedora



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Confusion, Coping, Delusions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Poison, Sickness, caring!Prompto, field medicine, hurt!Ignis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9849890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebedora/pseuds/Bebedora
Summary: Guilt, like a poison, consumes a man. Tortures his mind. Tries to rip his self-worth away. Guilt...makes a man doubt himself as the people around him suffer.  Hurt!Ignis  Caring!Prompto





	

Venenosa Culpa

_‘poisonous guilt’_

                The stinger pierced Ignis’ shoulder with pinpoint accuracy.

He screamed as the appendage of the killer wasp intruded, frantically clawing at his torso as searing pain coursed through his body.  Within seconds, the giant insect withdrew its weapon, the venom already beginning to course through Ignis’ system.  A quick moment later, a shot rang out and the flying minion fell to the ground, goopy entrails spilling out from its split belly.  Ignis stumbled, trying to catch his breath.

Several other dead wasps lay dead in a circle surrounding the party, one’s wings still twitching in the last throes of life.  The grass in the battle zone was stained blue, slippery with the blood of the beasts.  The cool waters of the Vesperpool twinkled on the horizon, the hot, humid air encompassing the party.  The dagger-slinger was barely aware of his friends rushing to his side.

“Ignis!”  Notcis grabbed the bespectacled young man by the shoulders to steady him.  He took a moment to inspect the growing blood stain on his friend’s shirt. 

Gladio wrapped an arm around Ignis’ waist as he began to lose his footing.  Stars floated past Ignis’ eyes, his face bombarded with wave after wave of unrelenting heat.  His stomach churned as his mental capacity began to wane.

 “Iggy, focus on me!”  Noctis released his grip on his friend and snapped his fingers in his face.  “Stay with us, alright?”

Ignis swayed under the intense swells of nausea, willing himself not to fall under the ever-increasing surges of insanity infiltrating his mind.  He grabbed onto Noctis with shaking hands as his legs gave out and he sunk to the ground.  He spoke, knowing he possibly had only seconds before his mind broke.  “I believe I’ve been…confused…and…poisoned.”

“That’s not possible!  Those things can _only_ confuse…”  Gladio tried to lift his friend back into a standing position, only to find the young man had seemingly gained one-hundred pounds in dead weight.  Ignis’ knees were locked, his body beginning to go rigid.

Fighting his own muddled mind, Ignis desperately tried to form coherent words.  “A…hybrid, perhaps…”  A thin stream of saliva trickled from the corner of his mouth before he vomited on the ground.  “I’m…quickly…losing the…f-fight…”

Prompto gathered Ignis’ discarded daggers from the dewy grass as the other friends tried to steady him.  Walking on wobbly legs, Ignis allowed his friends to help, although he was quickly losing the ability to recognize their faces.  A low growl rumbled from Ignis’ chest a moment later, and his muscles stiffened, the confusion venom completely taking over his fragile mind.  He wrenched himself away from his potential saviors and whirled around, teeth snarling and hands clawing.  Gladio had only seconds to step in-between the crazed Ignis and a bewildered prince. 

“Iggy, what are you doing?”  Gladio knocked Ignis to the ground, pushing Noctis out of harms’ way with a forceful shove.  Ignis began to rise again, fury burning in his glassy eyes.  His mind was no longer his own, instead now belonging to the poison injected into his veins.  The wound on his chest oozed, red blood mixing with the external remnants of the bright green venom.  He charged again at the young prince, ready to pounce.

Gladio intervened, wrapping his arms around Ignis in a tight bear hug.  He squirmed in his mighty grasp, desperately trying to get away.  His eyes were unfocused, his ramblings nonsensical.  Gladio struggled to keep hold of him, fearful of bringing more harm to the young man than had already been done.

“Ignis!  Listen, man…j-just calm down, okay?”  Prompto’s voice was panicky as he tried to get into Ignis’ field of vision.  He laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, only to have it whipped away by frantic fingers.  Ignis more than likely couldn’t distinguish him from friend or foe.

“We’ve gotta get him to the car! There’s some remedies and an antidote in the supplies.”  Gladio dragged Ignis to his feet.  “Hurry up!”

Ignis fought the massive man, kicking his legs in an attempt to get away.  His hands curled into tight fists and he pounded them into Gladio’s thighs with the strength of two men.  He gnashed his teeth as his head swirled around to get a better angle from which to bite.

“Dammit, Iggy, cut it out!  I’m trying to help you!”  Gladio quickened his pace back the Regalia, his two other friends hot on his heels.  “Prompto!  Dig through the pack and bring me the meds!”

“Right!”  Prompto sifted through the knapsacks, dread quickly sweeping over him.  As he stared at the empty spot where the two needed medications should be, he was suddenly hit with the realization that he had forgotten to purchase more at their last stop.  He felt bile rise in his throat as he backed away from the trunk with empty hands.

“Well?  What’s taking so long?”  Gladio had bent Ignis over the hood of the car, holding him there with a pin-hold, the young man’s arms wrenched awkwardly behind his back.  Ignis screamed at his captor, cursing his name and trying anything he could to get away.

“There’s…”  Prompto’s mouth was as dry as cotton.  He couldn’t bring himself to face his friends.  “…there’s no more.”

“What do you mean, ‘there’s no more’?”  Gladio’s eyes began to burn with rage. 

“I didn’t restock them last time.”  Prompto’s voice was meek and almost undetectable, especially over Ignis’ insane ramblings.  He could see that Gladio was moments away from exploding.  And he had every right to.  The gunslinger’s eyes fell on his helpless friend, pinned to the hood of the car in a mentally crippled state, poison destroying his body and his mind.  Ignis didn’t deserve this.  He didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of this stupidity.  Prompto hung his head in shame. 

“You had one task, Prompto!  What, did you see a chocobo and get distracted?”  Gladio struggled to keep Ignis in place.  “Nothing’s more important than doing your damn job!”

“I know…I’m s--” 

“Look at Iggy!  He’s out of his mind and now we can’t help him!” 

Noctis stepped in-between the two men, trying to diffuse the situation.  “It was an honest mistake, Gladio.  Right now we’ve got to focus on getting Specs some help, alright?”

Gladio grumbled and turned his attention back to his raving companion.  Prompto sighed heavily and let Noctis continue.

“It’s getting dark.  Ignis needs medicine—medicine we don’t have.  I think we can all agree that there’s a good chance he won’t survive without treatment.”  He thought for a moment before speaking again.  “The nearest outpost is Meldacio.  We need to go shopping.”

“There’s no way we can put him in the car, Noct.”  Gladio bent Ignis’ arm awkwardly to keep him in check.  The daggerman replied to the maneuver by kicking at Gladio’s legs.  “We can’t risk him jumping out at high speeds or attacking the driver.  There’ll be daemons out soon, and he’s of no use in a fight.  He’d endanger us.”

Noctis knew Gladio was right.  “Prompto?   You have any ideas?”

The young man shook his head without a verbal reply.

The prince then offered his own suggestion.  “Why don’t we make camp?  Then maybe one of us can go on to Hunter HQ and get the supplies.” 

“Not gonna happen.”  Gladio shook his head at his friend.  “It’s too dangerous at night to have anyone go alone.”

“Well then what do you propose we do?  Ignis could die.” 

Prompto’s heart sunk at the mention of Ignis’ possible demise.  He felt so guilty that they were in this situation, and tried desperately to think of anything to help.  When he finally spoke, his voice was submissive, unsure if they would even accept an idea from him.

“We make camp, like Noct said.  I’ll stay behind with Iggy…you two go to Meldacio.”

Gladio narrowed his eyes at the young man and then looked to the horizon, the blue sigils on the side of the haven beginning to glow with haunting light.  Blowing out a long breath, he heaved Ignis into a standing position and forced him to walk forward.  The once-studious young man tried to get away and swing at his large friend, but Gladio was having none of it.  He motioned to Prompto and Noctis with a flick of his head.  “Grab the tent from the trunk and follow me.”

The group climbed the incline leading to the campsite, the sun quickly beginning to dip below the waters of the Vesperpool.  Gladio forced Ignis to the ground, the young man beginning to lose both the strength and will to fight.  He continued, however, to rave maniacally, spouting nonsense about everything from cooking techniques to daemon lore.  It was obvious his faculties were nowhere to be found. 

“Bring me that little pack, the one with all the bandages.”  Gladio pointed to the knapsack slung over Noctis’ shoulder.  “You two pitch the tent while I clean his wound.”

Prompto grabbed the small satchel from Noctis in silence and handed it to Gladio, who never even looked up at him as he accepted the supplies.  The younger man went back to the campsite as Gladio attempted to wrestle Ignis’ jacket from his flailing body. 

Gladio tried to steady himself as Ignis thrashed underneath his grip, tossing the jacket aside into a bloody, sweaty heap.  The heat emanating from Ignis’ feverish body was incredible.  Perspiration glistened on his flushed skin, his hair already damp with moisture.  Breathing erratically and still trying to fight his friend despite waning strength, Ignis wasn’t going to give up against the large man without a fight.  Gladio realized he was never going to be able to treat the wound marring his friend’s shoulder without some kind of assistance.  Attempting to hold Ignis down by resting his own knees on the man’s legs, Gladio achieved quick respite, as his friend seemed to be somewhat subdued.  He quickly unbuttoned Ignis’ shirt to get better access to the sting wound.

“That’s it, Iggy.  Just calm down.”  Gladio leaned over, still applying pressure to the man’s legs to keep him immobile, and grabbed a bottle of antiseptic from the pack.  He twisted open the cap and squirted a fair amount of the solution directly onto the broken skin.  Ignis erupted with an agonized scream, and immediately began clawing at Gladio’s arms.  Gladio tried in vain to calm his friend, grabbing at frantically flailing hands.

“I know that stuff stings, alright?  But you have to let go of my hands!”  Gladio grumbled, reminding himself that Ignis wasn’t in control of himself, and didn’t mean to be such a handful.  Ignis moaned and thrashed his head from side-to-side, arching his back as he tried to roll away.  Gladio knew this was going nowhere fast, and realized he needed backup.

“One of you come help me, or he’s liable to hurt himself even more!” 

Noctis, busy hammering stakes into the ground, motioned to Prompto to help their friend.  Sighing heavily, Prompto reluctantly agreed to respond to the call for help.  Kneeling before his friends—one out of his mind and one clearly still livid with him—he waited for instructions.

“Grab his hands and hold his arms down tight!  Don’t you dare let go, you hear me?”

“O-okay…”  Prompto did as he was told, immediately surprised at the incredible heat pouring off of his friend.  He had never felt fever like this, and suddenly became increasingly more afraid for Ignis, thrashing under his grip, trying to bite his arm. 

Gladio made quick work of his treatment, scrubbing the wound with a cloth until no more external venom remained.  Ignis writhed under his ministrations, yelling out until his voice started to go hoarse.  At some point, he must have bitten his lip, for red blood began to trickle down his chin.  Prompto never let go, even as the tortured screaming of his friend bore directly into his soul. He accepted it as a form of punishment for his irresponsibility, and forced himself to listen to every agonized cry.

Finally finished, Gladio taped a square of gauze to Ignis’ battered shoulder and sat back on his haunches, exhausted and flustered.  The large man stared at him for a moment before turning his attention to Prompto.  His eyes bulged with fury as he tried to speak over Ignis’ ramblings.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself.  This is your mess, you know.” 

Prompto didn’t have a response.  He knew Gladio was right, but he most certainly wasn’t proud of the fact.  As Ignis convulsed under his hands, the incredible fevered heat burning through his clothes, blood already beginning to seep through the pristine bandage on his chest—Prompto was very aware of his responsibility to this situation.  His penance would be staying behind and making sure Ignis didn’t die from fever or leap into the Vesperpool in a fit of confusion. 

“Take this time with him to really think about how your actions affect others.  Iggy is suffering, and it isn’t because Noct or I didn’t do what we were supposed to do.”  Gladio swatted Prompto’s hands from Ignis’ arms and carried the dagger-slinger into the tent without another word. 

Prompto sat in silence, watching the giant man duck into the tent, Ignis’ limply kicking legs momentarily getting caught on the door flap.  Birds chirped in the trees surrounding the haven, the quiet lapping of the Vesperpool waters a reminder of the natural beauty that the area had to offer.  But today, the serenity was lost on Prompto.  It was hard to enjoy the magnitude of wonder that such a beautiful place offered when his friend was fighting for his life, ranting like a lunatic as poison robbed him of his sanity.  Prompto felt his stomach churn and willed himself not to throw up.  A weight on his shoulder ripped him from his thoughts, and he looked up to find Noctis, a comforting hand resting on his back.

“Help me get the rest of the supplies?”

Prompto just nodded and slowly rose to his feet, refusing any assistance from the prince.  They approached the Regalia in silence, retrieving the gear without speaking. 

“Listen, Prompto…”  As the pair sifted through the trunk, Noctis tried to make amends for Gladio’s behavior.  “…I know Gladio was harsh on you.  He shouldn’t have reacted like he did.  He’s worried about Ignis, we all are.  He’s…just not channeling his frustration appropriately, I think.”

“No, he was well within his right…”  Prompto sighed, stuffing a few odds and ends into his knapsack.  “I endangered Iggy, and the whole team.  And now look what happened.  Ignis is suffering, and it’s all my fault.  I was stupid…”

“Ignis is strong, and we’ll get the medicine from Meldacio and have him fixed up in no time.”  Noctis laid a reassuring hand on the young man’s shoulder.  “Don’t beat yourself up too much.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”  Prompto lifted his backpack, laden with supplies, and headed back towards the tent.

Gladio emerged from the darkened tent, shaking his head, concern crossing his face.  As the two younger men approached, he acknowledged them with a tired sigh.  “He’s getting worse.”

Not the news Prompto wanted to hear.

“He quit fighting me, I think he’s losing strength.  But the poison is definitely winning.”  Gladio tossed a rope at Prompto. 

“What’s this for?”

“In case he gets out of control again.” 

Prompto looked down at the rope in his hands, wanting so badly for Gladio’s remark to be a joke.  Ignis moaned from the tent behind them, his pained voice cutting through the twilight silence of the Vesperpool.  He knew there was a real possibility that he would have to restrain his friend at some point.  After all, he was only one man, and Ignis was bigger—and momentarily mentally incapacitated. 

“Let’s roll.  I don’t want to be out in the dark any longer than we need to be.”  Gladio pushed past Prompto on his way to the car. He turned one last time with final instructions. “Don’t let him out of your sight.  He’s your responsibility, so don’t screw this up too.”

Noctis offered his friend a small, reassuring smile as he got into the driver’s seat of the car.  As the Regalia pulled away down the dirt road, the tail lights disappearing into the darkness, Prompto wrung the rope in his hands. 

Ignis groaned in the tent, and Prompto dutifully went to tend to his ailing friend.  As he ducked into the darkened enclosure, he was immediately hit with smell of blood and sweat.  He could feel the humid heat radiating from Ignis’ sick body; hear the incoherent mumblings of lunacy tumbling from his lips.  The young man moved to sit beside his companion.  Beads of perspiration rolled down Ignis’ face, dampening the thin camp pillow Gladio had placed beneath his head.  Sensing his friend’s discomfort, Prompto moistened a cloth with water from a canteen and placed it on Ignis’ forehead.  His eyes fluttered underneath the smudged lenses of his glasses, Prompto unsure if he could even see.  Deciding to remove the spectacles for safe-keeping, Prompto tucked them into his backpack and went back to his vigil.  Ignis’ breathing was erratic, limbs jerking involuntarily as the poison coursed through his veins.  Every so often, he would cry out, flailing at some unseen assailant.  Too weak to act violently on his intentions, the meager movements just made him seem more pitiful. 

Moving to cool Ignis’ body further, Prompto pushed the sides of his shirt open, and laid the cloth directly on his friend’s heaving chest.  When the fabric was in place, the young man poured a bit of water from the canteen, moistening the cloth.  Ignis hissed at the sensation, and immediately shivered.  His strength seemed to wane with every passing moment.

“Ignis?”  Prompto attempted to make his voice as soothing as possible, even though he was terrified beyond belief.  “Can you hear me?”

The poisoned man writhed in place.  Unable to form words, he simply moaned and tried to focus on Prompto.  Losing the fight after a few long moments, his eyes finally fluttered shut, a raspy, defeated gasp forced from his lips.

Mostly confident that his friend didn’t have the strength to fight back any more, the gunslinger set the rope aside and went back to his task as caretaker.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, Iggy…”

Prompto hoped he wasn’t lying.

 

ooooo

 

Prompto startled awake, needing a moment to get his bearings in the dimly-lit tent.  The lantern was quickly running out of fuel, the flame barely flickering within.  Pinching the bridge of his nose to force a budding headache away, it took a full moment for him to realize that Ignis was gone.  His shirt, bloodied and ripped, lay discarded on the floor.

Frenzied cries pierced the quiet solitude of the Vesperpool.

Frantically scrambling from the tent, Prompto was horrified to find his friend screaming into the ether, wildly attacking an unseen assailant with his daggers.  With each step, Ignis moved closer and closer to the edge of the haven, and a certain fall.   Blood streamed down his naked arm, his bicep slashed.  A quick glance at one of Ignis’ blades indicated the wound had been self-inflicted.  Whether it was by accident or not, Prompto did not know. 

“Ignis!  Calm down, alright?  Why don’t you just give me the da—“

The dagger-slinger turned to face him, fire in his eyes.  Without warning, Ignis charged at Prompto, screaming a hearty battle cry, daggers poised to strike a death blow.  The young man had only a second to dart out of the way of the onslaught.

“Iggy!  It’s me, Prompto!”  He held up his hands in submission.  “Look at me, alright?  I’m not a baddie!”

Ignoring his friend’s pleas, Ignis ran at him again, screaming in rage.  Prompto suddenly realized he needed to make decision.  Did he defend himself against his manic friend, or let the man attack him?  Could he really pull a gun on Ignis?  Could he really—shoot him?  He put his hand on the pistol attached to his belt, but did not draw. 

“You’ll die at my hand!”  Ignis flew at him, daggers flailing wildly.  With the poison still clouding his thinking and affecting his accuracy, Prompto easily dodged out of the attack path.  Ignis, enraged that he missed his target, did an about-face and ran at Prompto again, narrowly missing him.  Skidding to a halt beside the fire, Ignis took a moment to catch his breath.  His back arched as the poison took more of a hold on him, and he flexed his muscles in defiance at his opponent. 

Ignis’ short respite gave Prompto the moment he needed to assess the situation.  He realized there was no way his friend was going to listen to reason.  The possibility that Ignis didn’t even know his identity was very real.  He was going to have to subdue his friend—for both their safety.

Ignis’ fervent screaming snapped him out of his thoughts and Prompto had mere seconds to spring into action.  As Ignis whooshed past him on another attack pass, the young man pushed his friend to the ground with all his might, smacking the daggers from his hands as they hit the stone.  The weapons clattered away, coming to rest just outside the tent.  As the two men struggled in the light of the campfire, Prompto found himself thinking that Ignis was much stronger than he appeared to be.  Always studious and observant, if one just looked at the bespectacled man from afar, one would never guess he was as deadly a warrior as he actually was.  And now, as he fought for dominance over his insane friend, Prompto couldn’t believe he was really in this situation. 

Calling upon all his knowledge as they wrestled atop the glowing sigils adorning the haven, Prompto realized there was only one way he was going to be able to subdue his friend.  Ignis was quickly gaining ground, even in his frantic state.  He moved to pin the gunslinger down, Prompto having only a second to react.  Wrenching his body, the young man wrapped his legs around Ignis’ waist and pulled him close, the man’s bloody arm staining Prompto’s pants as they struggled.  Bringing his arms around Ignis’ neck, Prompto squeezed with all his might, trying to cut off his friend’s air supply.  As Ignis struggled in his arms, no sign of losing consciousness, Prompto tried to convince himself that he was doing the right thing.  He brought to mind all the self-defense techniques Gladio had tried to teach him when he was in his last weeks of training to be Crownsguard.  Never in his life did Prompto think he’d be using one of the “just in case” moves to choke out a friend. 

Ignis continued to fight, his gasps becoming labored as his lungs were deprived of oxygen.  He clawed at Prompto’s arms, leaving angry red scratches down the skin.  Trying to scream, Ignis found that his voice was beginning to leave him as he struggled to breathe.  He arched his back, digging his heels into the rock floor of the campsite.  Pushing back against his captor, Ignis’ attempts to get away were becoming more and more futile as the moments went on.

Prompto just wished he’d go out already.

He continued to squeeze, knowing that if he wasn’t successful soon, he’d have to let go.  There was a fine line between inducing unconsciousness and inviting death to take his friend.  After another moment of struggle, Ignis finally lost his ability to fight, and slipped away into the darkness.

Prompto sat there panting, his unconscious friend in his arms.  As he listened to Ignis’ raspy breathing, he allowed his shoulders to slump, his head hanging low.  Once again, he had failed to do his job.  He had been tasked with keeping Ignis safe.  And now, here they were, reeling in the aftermath of a battle Prompto never had any intention of fighting.  Ignis had a new wound, bleeding all over the ground.  He had been dangerously close to the fire and the edge of the campsite.  Raving and poisoned, Prompto had no idea of knowing whether or not Ignis had been in pain from the venom or the slice in his arm. 

As they lay there in the firelight, Prompto’s arms still around his friend’s neck, the young man knew he needed to decide what to do next.  He could feel Ignis’ blood seeping into the fabric of his pants, the wound on his arm oozing steadily.  Ignis’ labored breathing worried Prompto, fearful that more damage had been done by their altercation. Even in his weakened state, the poison was acting as a catalyst to his insanity, even if his body had nothing more to give.

Prompto finally released Ignis from his hold, and eased his limp body down onto the stone floor of the haven.  Kneeling next to him, Prompto quickly inspected the bleeding gash on Ignis’ bicep, determining that it didn’t need stitches.  With a heavy sigh, the young man bent over and hooked his arms under Ignis’ own, and gently dragged him back into the tent.

 

Ooooo

 

“Grab ten antidotes, Noct.  And plenty of remedies.”

The prince obliged, balancing the vials in his hands.  In the cramped, hot mercantile at hunter HQ, the two men shopped for supplies, very aware that there was no time to dawdle.  Their journey had been longer than anticipated, a Red Giant deciding to interrupt their nighttime drive.  After making (not-so-quick) work of the monster, they resumed their trek, arriving in Meldacio just before midnight.

Noctis watched his friend peruse the coffee selection, finally settling on Ignis’ favorite, Ebony.  He couldn’t help but notice the way his shoulders sagged, the way his face was drawn.  The warrior sighed as he held the coffee in his hand, the exhausted breath accompanied by an almost unnoticeable shake of the head.  Gladio’s body language betrayed his tough exterior—he was very, very worried about Ignis. 

The young prince placed the items on the counter, and waited for Gladio to join him.  As the clerk tallied their total, Noctis continued to observe his friend.  Eyebrows furrowed, nervously tapping his fingers on the countertop, Gladio was counting the seconds until they could go back.  After paying the bill, Gladio silently went outside, leaving Noctis to follow with the supplies.  The prince found the man sitting on a bench outside the store, head hung between his shoulders.  Noctis sat beside him, the plastic bag containing Ignis’ medicine—and coffee—falling between his feet. 

“Iggy’s going to be okay, Gladio.”  Gladio just grunted, prompting Noctis to continue.  “I know you’re worried.”

“More pissed than anything else.”

 “Yes, Prompto screwed up.  I’m upset with him too.  But,” Noctis sighed.  “…he’s suffering enough watching Ignis go through that torture.  Don’t you think you were a little hard on him?”

“You crazy?  I should have smacked some sense into him before we left.”  Gladio curled his hands into tight fists. 

“Look, I know you’re worried.  I know you’re angry.  But flying off the handle isn’t going to help anyone, especially Ignis.  I mean, I don’t know if he understood anything that was going on back at camp, but…”

“I know, alright?”  Gladio sighed heavily.  “I just get so mad when…”

“Prompto is brand new at this Crownsguard thing, Gladio.  He’s trying so hard to impress everyone—especially you.”

“Hmph.” 

“I know that your main job is to protect me, but you really need to be supportive of the others.  Prompto just wants your acceptance.  Yelling at him isn’t going to do you any favors.”

Gladio rose and walked a few steps from the prince before turning to face him.  “I guess I never thought about it that way.  Seeing Prompto as something other than an annoying kid can be hard at times.  You know, you’re pretty smart when you want to be, Noct.”

“Gee, thanks.”  He picked up the bag of meds and stood, stretching his arms over his head until his shoulders popped.   The prince headed towards the car, settling himself in the driver’s seat.   “We need to get back.”

When Gladio had joined him the the vehicle, he turned to Noctis, an uncharacteristic apologetic expression crossing his face.  “Sorry I was so harsh on the kid.”

“Thanks, Gladio.  Just remember there’s someone else who needs to hear it.”  He started the car and headed back towards the Vesperpool.  “And I’m proud of you for admitting you were a jerk.”

Gladio unloaded a hefty punch into Noctis’ bicep.  “Shove it, Noct.”

 

ooooo

 

 

_“Pr…prompto?”_

Looking up from his book, the young gunslinger had never been happier to see Ignis’ green eyes than right there in that moment.  Weak fingers twitched against his leg as Ignis attempted to get his attention.

“Hey, Iggy!  Welcome back, man…”

Ignis furrowed his eyebrows.  His voice was a hushed, dry whisper.  “Back?”

“You don’t remember what happened?”  Prompto held the canteen to Ignis’ lips and encouraged him to drink.

Water dribbled down Ignis’ chin as he struggled to take in the liquid.  He shook his head weakly.  “I feel very sick…”

“I know.  But I’m here to help you, okay?”  Prompto placed a cool cloth on his feverish forehead.  “You were stung by a killer wasp.”

Ignis managed a feeble nod before letting his eyes flutter shut.  The two men remained in silence for several long moments, Prompto periodically adjusting the cloth on Ignis’ head.  He watched his friend, resting uncomfortably, in the dim lantern light.  Ignis’ eyes darted back and forth underneath their lids, occasional pained moans escaping his lips.  Prompto wanted to apologize to his friend for his stupidity.  Watching him still suffering the effects of the venom broke his heart.  Even though he didn’t know if Ignis was listening, he decided he would atone for his sin.

“Look, Iggy…I…”

Instantly, Ignis’ eyes shot open, his arms flailing wildly in the air.  He screamed—a terrified, panicked cry—and began to back himself away from an unseen entity.  “Get out!  Help me!”

Prompto tried to calm him, holding his arms and comforting him with as soothing of a voice as he could muster.  “Shhhh….there’s nothing here, I promise!”

Ignis sat bolt upright, clawing at Prompto’s arms.  “No!  Stay back!”

“Iggy, please calm down!” The young man’s voice was becoming more and more panicky.  He didn’t want Ignis to open his wounds or hurt either of them in his confused fit.  Prompto grabbed his hands and held tight, trying to ease his manic friend back into a prone position.  “Ignis, you’ve got to stop.  You’re going to hurt yourself.  I swear to you, there’s nothing in the tent!”

Ignis finally calmed enough to lie back, and stopped grabbing at invisible monsters.  His eyes remained wide open, the glassy green irises shining in the lantern’s illumination.  Prompto replaced the cold compress, and Ignis’ eyes finally closed, accompanied by an exhausted, pained sigh.  Within moments, the man had fallen into a fitful quasi-sleep, tormented in his dreams.

Sitting in the darkness, Prompto felt tears threaten to come.  Desperately trying to stop them, he finally let go, praying that his friends would soon return.  He didn’t know how much more he—or Ignis—could take. 

He hung his head and cried.  The calls of night birds and Ignis’ heavy, fitful breathing enveloped him.

 

ooooo

 

Gladio peered through the tent flap, his eyes immediately falling onto his sick friend.  The bandage on his shoulder had obviously been changed, and had been joined by a new companion—a strip of gauze tied expertly around his bicep.  Ignis slept fitfully, the heat radiating from his body still present.  Prompto sat, exhausted but alert, watching their companion like a hawk.  He looked up as the prince and his protector emerged into the tent’s interior.

“How’s Specs?”  Noctis knelt beside the sick man, laying the back of his hand on his forehead. 

“’Bout the same…”  Prompto was unsure as to how much about their ordeal he wanted to divulge. 

“What’s with the bandage?”  Gladio didn’t look up from his business, mixing the antidote and remedy together in a flask. 

“He, uh…well…”  Prompto scratched the back of his neck nervously.  He began to anticipate Gladio’s reaction, and felt his stomach do somersaults.  “…there was a little setback.  But I handled it.”

The warrior inspected the bandage for a moment, before focusing his attention on the young gunslinger.  A small smile graced his lips.  “Good field dressing, Prompto.  Nice work.”

Surprised, Prompto could barely muster a response.  Instead, he looked to Noctis, confusion crossing his face. Had Gladio really just praised him?  The prince nodded knowingly, giving Prompto a wink for good measure.

Using the most soothing touch either man had ever seen from the large soldier, Gladio nudged the ailing Ignis awake, and encouraged him to drink the medicinal concoction.  He held the flask to cracked, dry lips and tilted Ignis’ head forward, allowing him better access to the solution.  After a few sips, three-quarters of the potion had been imbibed, and Gladio eased Ignis’ head back down to rest.  The sick man never opened his eyes during the assistance, and immediately fell back into his fitful sleep pattern.

Gladio removed the bandage from Ignis’ shoulder and poured the rest of the tincture directly onto the sting wound, Ignis groaning unconsciously as the liquid seeped into the hole. 

“For what it’s worth…”  Gladio replaced the dressing and pulled the camp blanket up over Ignis’ chest. 

The three friends sat in silence, watching their companion throughout the rest of the night, taking shifts to ensure he would be safe.

 

ooooo

 

The sunlight hurt Ignis’ eyes.

Screwing his lids shut at the offending illumination, the young man threw his arm over his face to try and shield himself from the blinding brightness.  After a moment to let his mind and body adjust to the morning’s wrath, he slowly removed his arm and allowed his eyes to flutter open.

He was alone in the tent, his shirt and jacket folded neatly beside him.  Ignis instantly noticed, despite his blurry vision, that there was a significantly large red stain on both articles of clothing.  Resting on top were his glasses; smudged but intact.  He reached over to retrieve them; wincing as his wounded shoulder protested the movement.  A pained hiss escaped his lips and he bent his head down to look at his wound.  He noticed a small splotch of blood seeping through the dressing at his collarbone, and another bandage wrapped around his left bicep.  Still foggy about the previous day’s events, he decided not to over think things and allow his mind to come back to him at its own pace.

Ignis sat up, perched his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and gingerly slipped his shirt back onto his body.  A brief wave of nausea washed over him, but a few cleansing breaths quickly banished it.  He crept out of the tent, the smell of burning food assaulting his nostrils seconds later.

Prompto stood in front of the camp stove, spatula in his hand and disgusted scowl on his face.  A thin billow of black smoke rose from the skillet, a pot overflowed with chunky foam on the other burner.  A quiet stream of profanities bubbled from the young man’s mouth.  Ignis’ movements must have startled the gunslinger, for he jumped and did an about-face, a surprised yelp tumbling from his lips.

“Iggy!  What’re you doing up so early?”

“Watching you fail at cooking, I suppose.”

An embarrassed grin crossed Prompto’s face as he hid the spatula behind his back.  “I even burned the oatmeal.  I mean, who does that?”

Ignis approached, taking in the carnage that cluttered his camp stove set-up.  Incinerated toast slices, blackened eggs, and, just as his friend had admitted to—burned oatmeal clinging to the sides of the pot.  He stifled a curt laugh at Prompto’s expense.  Cradling his aching left arm, he moved to stand next to the young man.

“Allow me to help.”

“No way, you’re still recovering!”

“I’m just fine, merely a bit sore.  Besides, if I continue to allow this debacle, we’ll all be _recovering_ from food poisoning.”

Prompto looked at the mess he had made, and nodded his head in defeat.  “I’ll get you some new pans.”

“Much obliged.”  Ignis tossed the burnt toast and eggs into the trash bag hanging from the table and went about procuring more ingredients.  Moving hurt, but he knew he needed to keep his body and mind active if he was going to fully recover from the poison.  His bicep protested as he flexed it, but he kept on.

The young man returned from the supply trunk with a fresh skillet and pot, and Ignis went about preparing a meal that wouldn’t kill them.  Prompto handed him eggs one at a time, and helped when asked with other tasks.  Soon, a new pot of oatmeal was steeping on the burner, and the eggs were being cooked to perfection.  Ignis scanned the horizon, and located his other two companions, training along the banks of the Vesperpool.

“I see Noct has learned a new trick.”  Ignis pointed to the pair with his spatula.  The prince was hovering in mid-air, his weapon poised to strike a death blow to his sparring partner. 

“Yeah.  He’s always coming up with new moves to surprise us with.”  Prompto appreciated the small talk, even though he knew he really needed to speak seriously to Ignis.  He wished he didn’t have to admit to his mistake, but he owed his friend that much.  “Look, Iggy…”

Ignis looked up from the stove, eyes twinkling in the early-morning sun.  The feverish, chaotic fire in his eyes was gone, the delusional raving a very distant memory. 

Prompto sighed heavily and continued.  “…I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“You suffered because of me.  I…I didn’t restock the remedies or antidotes last time we went shopping.  It’s my fault you had to go through all that awful stuff.  If I had just done my job, you would hav—“

Ignis held up a hand, stopping the young man.  “There’s no need for an apology.”

“But there is!”

“Nonsense.”  Ignis took the eggs off the heat and set them aside.  “We’re in a strange place under even stranger circumstances.  Things get forgotten, plain and simple.”

Prompto hung his head.  “You’re being too nice to me.”

“You are a valuable member of the team.  Even though you didn’t restock like expected— _one time_ —you treated my wounds and comforted me when I needed it most.”

“Did you…”

“Even in my frenetic state, there were times of clarity—where I realized that you were there for me.  I am honored to call you ‘friend’, and grateful you were with me during my darkest hours.”

“You mean it?  Even after I screwed up royally?”  Prompto’s expression was one of cautious hope.

“Indeed.”  Ignis smiled warmly.  “Now, why don’t you get the dishes from the pack and call the others.  Breakfast will be ready shortly.”

 

\---end---


End file.
